Ownership
by dmwcool1
Summary: The feelings that Buzz thinks about after Andy. Told from Buzz's POV. One-shot


**Hola. So I watched Toy Story 3 the other day (ninth time) and EVERYTIME Andy throws Buzz into the trashbag, his reaction just kills me. It's so sad and unsettling to me. So I decided to write from Buzz's POV during his stay at Bonnie's. I'm sorry if it's a little OOC, but Buzz is SO hard to write. I didn't know what words to use or how to phrase them or...anyways here's just another useless one shot. Enjoy.**

Andy. I arrived on his bed on his seventh birthday, born a space ranger of Star Command. My rocket ship was in ruins on an unfamiliar location. I questioned myself in how could I return my home planet, how could I have fixed my ship without any knowledge of the resources that were in this setting. The ground was malleable, the night skies were of the color light blue. And there he was; the sheriff.

My deluded nature blocked out the words he was speaking to me. I saw his mouth move but heard of nothing. I could tell he was angered by something but didn't know what. After my, ahem, meltdown I saw my life in a new light. I grew up to be a toy.

Only a toy. Not a collectable. Now, call me delirious, but at the time-yes- I was very afraid I might've lost Woody to Al, forever. After Woody's rejection in Al's apartment, the cold hard vent seemed to fit my mood at the moment. But after many weeks later, I though how could somebody want Woody so much. Then I remembered at the items he showed me that showed his face. His name. His legacy. I was amazed. I stood there in stillness when watching his T.V. show. He was a rare toy; one of a kind. Something that all toy collectors wanted. Me? Well, I'm just a Buzz Lightyear. One in a billion. Over the years, technology has improved. My special features couldn't compete with the later Buzz Lightyears.

After the initial shock of receiving me for his birthday present, Andy's interest evened out between Woody and I. We were sidekicks, partners in crime. It had been so for next few years until he reached the age of eleven; the beginning of middle school. His friends didn't play with toys so he followed suit. But I could tell by the way he looked at all of us, there was a sparkle of wanting in his eye. I couldn't figure out what he wanted until he got into the college of his choice. He wanted his childhood again.

At the age of thirteen, his English teacher had assigned an essay: Write about your favorite childhood toy. Anxiety grew in his toy box, we were eager to be chosen. Only one. As the chest creaked open, we all fell lifeless. After rummaging and mumbling, Andy grabbed the toy he wanted: Woody. I was happy for him, don't get me wrong, but… I wanted to feel Andy's fingers holding me. I wanted to feel his warmth. And after Woody told us about Andy's observations and how he had to bring him to school to present, I was gave him many congratulating smiles. But I was also selfish, I could only think of myself. About how I wanted to have that attention, but I hid my envy.

Leaving for college. All the toys were nervous about being put in the dreaded trash bag. My heart wrenched after witnessing each and every one of my friends being thrown into the black plastic bag. And there we were, Woody and I, being held in both of Andy's hands. They certainly have gotten much larger than the last time he held me years ago. This was it, I was going to college with him.

Or so I thought. It felt as if it was slow motion, landing into the pile of toys and he shut the bag closed. I wanted to yell. Wanted to say something. But I was only a toy. Woody's fate was going against Prospector's words: he _was_ going to college with Andy. He was going to spend the rest of his life with him.

After Sunnyside and several misunderstandings, we finally reached the Davis home. I won't go into detail, but after a car drive that seemed to take forever, we arrived at our new owner's, Bonnie's, house. Once the introductions of his toys ended, she held us all in glee. But there was one toy missing. And she knew who.

"_My cowboy!"_

Struggling to let him go, Andy decided after his description of Woody to give him to the eager toddler. Andy loved him. He loved _all_ of us, but that was the remainder of his childhood. Gone.

It was painful to see Andy leave, especially to Woody. The look on his face couldn't be described into words and I could only but wrap my arm around him in comfort. They were close. They had a bond. Bonnie and him now have a growing connection. She's fascinated by everything from his pull string to his cowboy hat. She has never owned a vintage toy; a sheriff.

I'm happy with my life then and now. I have met incredible friends, including Woody-my best friend. I have made an amazing boy happy and currently gives a little girl joy. I've captured Dr. Evil Porkchop, his minions, and ghosts. But I do wish that sometimes… I just want a owner who'll say that in _his_ toy. I want to be that toy who leads his sidekicks to the bad guys, who say the snappy lines and who'll have the townspeople cheer for. I want an owner who is fascinated by me, who wishes that I were alive. I want them to say that I'm their hero. I want to be the one who holds that last remainder of their childhood when they've grown up.

I want that owner to remember me as an individual toy and not just another Buzz Lightyear. For infinity and beyond.

**What? It's Buzz's turn to be angsty. Please review/critique! Love all of ya!**


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